Missed Call
by Wickedfetch
Summary: Post series. On a date with Ryan Annie's phone notifies her of a missed call which sets in motion a series of events.


Disclaimer: Don't own Covert Affairs, this is a fanfic written with no thought for financial gain.

 **Missed Call**

There's a crack in everything

That's how the light gets in

~Leonard Cohen

* * *

The voice on the message was distorted. An encrypted cell then. Who was calling her on an encrypted cell? She had been removed from most the sensitive operations at Langley since she was essentially no longer an employee, and she hadn't yet been officially issued a green badge at Ryan's company.

She was so distracted she didn't recognize the voice at first, but it couldn't be. He never left a message. He'd said it himself, if I ever get voicemail I hang up. So it wasn't possible. She closed her phone and returned her attention to Ryan.

"Sorry babe, you want dessert?" He was saying, his hand over his phone. He had taken the call during dinner, leaving her with nothing to do but play games on her phone. She was gripping it too tightly. She shifted to slide it into her clutch and gave him a bright smile as she nodded her head.

He grinned at her, and instructed the waiter before returning to his call.

She fiddled with the engagement ring on her finger, as she itched to open the clutch and withdraw her phone again.

She glanced around, admiring the chandeliers, the table cloths, the roses and champagne bottles. A few women shot her understanding glances as they waited for their dates to finish up their business calls, and she fought down a blush.

What the hell was she doing here?

She had chosen field work over everything, taken on impossible assignments and pursued targets across the world. She had let go of her sister, of her friends, in the pursuit of….adrenaline? duty? Had she even known? And now she was sitting here, a kept woman like all the rest in four inch heels, a dress Ryan had picked for her and a ring that was too heavy for her hand the way her gun used to be.

This was where the current had taken her?

She shivered at the memory, leaning against a fence near the Potomac, the sun warm on her back and the tall form of Eyal centimeters away from her own. He had mentioned fighting it once, and she felt as confused by the idea now as she had then. Should she fight it? Or had she been all along?

She glanced at Ryan, who gave her another apologetic smile. He was handsome, entrancingly powerful and unpredictable.

The waiter set a chocolate soufflé down in front of her, and she closed her eyes to enjoy the aroma and taste of it.

"You ready to get out of here?" Ryan asked.

She opened her eyes, to meet his darkened pupils, and gave a small nod. He rose from his seat and helped her into her coat, his hands brushing and lingering. She leaned back into it, intending to enjoy what he had to offer, until his hand brushed against her clutch. Her grip tightened on it reflexively. He didn't notice as they walked out of the restaurant and to the car.

He shot her hungry looks, and she tossed him a coy smile, "my place is closer." She whispered.

He looked surprised, they almost always went to his. It was nicer, and his bed was bigger, but he didn't argue.

Later, he fell into an easy sleep, his arm draped over her. She waited until it became entirely loose and relaxed before sliding out from underneath it, and dressed in an old pair of sweat pants and a faded hoodie before slipping her phone out of her clutch.

She dialed her voicemail and waited, feeling foolish. It was a trick of the mind, it couldn't possibly be Eyal, she was just nervous about her engagement so she had conjured him out of thin air to reassure her the way he always had.

The voicemail opened with distorted voices, and a harshly rasped "Annie." There was a pause, and if not for the sounds she couldn't decipher she would have thought the message was over.

"I, uh, guess, this time I did have your number." He said, a light touch to the words, there were more distorted voices, and then the unmistakable sound of gunfire, fired close to the phone.

"But I don't think I'll be able to drop by." He continued, she heard more shouts, less distorted now, and she could hear labored breathing too.

"I just wanted—" he said, his voice cut off by a tumbling clatter.

"Tie him up." A different voice said, in clear American English.

She heard the sound of a scuffle, grunts and groans as men fought and then the sounds faded. She clutched at the phone, willing his voice, but nothing. She could hear noise, but nothing distinct, and then the message ended.

She leaned back against the hallway wall, sliding down, choosing to save the message when the metallic voice asked her what she wanted to do. She stared at the phone, at the number on the screen, before playing it again.

* * *

"Walker? What are you doing here?" Barber asked.

"I still work here." She said, "and I wanted to see my friend." She added with a smile. He blushed and turned away.

"I guess we should enjoy it while it lasts, once you leave us for McQuaid we tech guys probably won't be much of a priority."

"That's not true," she said, hating that it was, "a field officer is only as good as her back up, and we all know you're one of the best."

He preened under her flattery, "we're going to miss you around here Walker, not many operatives are as talented as you are."

She blushed, which he took for pride, "stop it Barber, or I'll never be able to leave."

He looked like he wanted her to stay, now was as good a time as any. She pulled out her phone, "you think you could do some voice analysis for me?"

He looked at it eagerly, "this something for McQuaid?"

"No…" she trailed off, "I think leaving the CIA might not be the way to go. I mean, we're getting married, and working together and living together might not be the best idea…look at Joan and Arthur."

Barber nodded.

"I'll send you the file." She said. She had clipped out the unidentified voice, "I need to get some sort of ID on the voice."

Barber selected her file, playing it immediately, and nodding as he began fiddling with toggles on his computer. She sat on the desk next to him, and watched him work for several minutes.

"Well that is definitely an American accent. I've set the computer to search for voice pattern markers, but it's not much to work with. Do you have anything else?"

"I'll let you know." She said, hesitant to play him the rest of the message. He looked disappointed so she laid her hand on his shoulder as she stood to get up, and flashed him a brilliant smile as she walked away.

* * *

"Long time no see." Reva said, her voice cold. But that was just Reva's way.

"Can you do me a favor? I need a trace on this number." She asked.

Reva looked at her in surprise and confusion, and Annie leaned closer and dropped her voice to a whisper, "I found it on Ryan's cell, and he was really secretive about it, and I just…" she twisted her engagement ring and kept her eyes down a moment before looking back up at Reva.

Reva sighed, "you and your boy problems. Hand it over."

"Really?" Annie said, writing the number down for Reva.

Like Barber she efficiently typed the number into her database and pursed her lips as the information appeared on screen.

"It's a burner phone, so no name, and it was only used once. I can get a trace on where, but it will take more time." Reva said.

Annie nodded, slumping against the desk, as Reva typed for a few more minutes.

"I've got the search going, it will just take the computer a while to figure it out….are you okay?" Reva asked.

"It's probably nothing, just a work thing, right?" She asked.

Reva nodded, agreeing too quickly.

"No wait, you don't agree."

"No, I'm sure you're right-"

"Just spit it out Reva, don't pull your punches now, you've always been honest, brutally so in the past."

"Just…I don't know…after Auggie I know you were hurting, and all the black ops stuff you've done, but Ryan just...I don't Annie, he just doesn't seem to get you. You know? I mean I know it's hard as a field operative, and that being in the field is hard, and he gets that, but shouldn't he get you? Isn't the right guy the one that just gets you, all of you?"

"Thing is, after a life like this I don't know if anyone ever really gets all of me. Like my life is splintered into all these pieces, and at least he won't get cut up by them." She replied.

"I guess." Reva acknowledged, "but if you're always protecting him from yourself, aren't you really just protecting yourself from him too? I mean, if you think you're a splintered mess, doesn't that mean you should be working to put yourself back together?"

Reva studied her closely for a moment, "unless, does he do that? Does he put you back together?"

Annie smiled, "of course." She lied, and shifted her attention back to the burner number blinking on Reva's screen.

Reva nodded, "well of course if you find someone you feel totally safe with, someone who can put all those splinters back together, then I get it. I wish I could find someone I could be myself around totally, someone who got me. You're lucky."

"Yeah." Annie said, watching as Reva's computer narrowed down the burner's location, her mind keeping track of the hours and minutes since he left the message on her voicemail.

"Got it!" Reva exulted nine minutes later, "the call was made…here.."

She gave her a pitying glance, and for a moment Annie forgot she should be the hurt fiancé, that a local burner probably meant Ryan was hiding something from her. Reva didn't know Annie was the one hiding something from him.

She kept her voice hollow, as she thanked her and headed back to Barber.

He was twirling around in his chair, and gave her a goofy grin when he saw her, "got your man. Dave Jamison."

He pulled up a long dossier. Marines, special forces, black ops, most of it redacted, but at the bottom his movement into the private sector working for J&J Security.

"Whoever he was tying up is not in for a good time." Barber said.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

He pointed to the bottom, and she skipped down a few lines. Jamison was one of the private contractors involved with renditions, and information extraction. Of course that also meant a raft of other things that even bureaucratic language couldn't obscure.

"Does it say where he was last based out of?" She asked.

Barber scrolled back up. Turkey. Before that Syria, only relocating because of the instability. There were extensive notes about the location. Barber said something, pulling her focus away. She gave him another smile, and laid a hand on his arm, before turning back to the screen.

* * *

"Hey babe," she said answering her phone.

"You left early this morning." Ryan said, his tone pouting and hurt.

"Yeah, Danielle called." She lied as she drove out of Langley.

"Really?" He said, sounding surprised, and she winced remembering all the shared cartons of ice cream and cupcakes and all the things she had forgotten she missed.

"Yeah, uh…" she needed a lie, a good one, "things between her and Michael just aren't working, and she needs some sister bonding, you know…"

"Oh, okay." He said, not really understanding.

"So, I think, since I've got the time right now, I'll fly out to California and spend some time with her." She added.

He paused, "I know you were nervous about getting engaged-" he started.

"It's not that. Really it's not. She's my sister, and she needs me, and I..." she drew a deep breath, "I haven't been there for her in a while, and she was my rock, and I think this is a chance to repair our relationship you know?"

It wasn't even a lie. She had shattered their relationship when she'd faked her death, and Danielle still hadn't forgiven her. She should be flying out to California to bond.

"Okay. I can get that." Ryan said, in full supportive boyfriend mode.

"Thanks! I think I'll try and get on standby tonight, but I'll call you when I get there." She said, gushing.

"You're leaving tonight?" He said, sounding surprised.

"You should have heard her Ryan, she's in trouble, maybe not the kind of trouble I've gotten into, but I can't ignore it, not when I can do something about it." That wasn't a lie either, not really, just switch the pronouns and it was the truth.

He caught the hint of desperation in her words, and acquiesced, "let me know if you need anything." He said, "I'm going to miss you."

"I'll miss you too." She said, automatically, and closed the phone before he could say I love you.

* * *

If she was going to pull this off she would need to use every piece of tradecraft she had ever seen. She pulled up her car a few blocks away from her safe house, the one she had felt guilty about not telling Ryan about, and waited.

It was only a few blocks away from the trace on the burner phone, and she wondered if that was a coincidence or not. If it wasn't they may have swept the area looking for why he had been there, and she needed to be careful. After waiting fifteen minutes she walked past the apartment building and took the bus before doubling back.

It felt fine.

When she unlocked the door it still felt fine, nothing was out of place, and the apartment had the musty smell of disuse. She pulled up the floorboards and unlocked her safe.

She pushed the gun aside, and pulled out a stack of pounds and a British passport. Her eye caught a scrap of paper, Eyal's happy birthday note, and she pulled it out and set it next to the passport before grabbing three burner phones, a few of Auggie's special tools and the wallet to match her British identity.

Next she pulled out the laptop and began clipping together a series of audio clips of Danielle talking. These she downloaded onto her phone. Setting that aside she twisted off her engagement ring and set it down into the safe before locking it and placing the floorboards over it. She wheeled out a suitcase and began packing. Cargo pants, loose shirts, hiking boots, and a floppy touristy hat.

She checked her watch. It had been nineteen hours since he'd left the message. No. She couldn't think about that. She folded the birthday note and tucked it into her bra before calling a cab and marching out the door to meet it.

She called Ryan from the airport and chatted with him, listening to his day and gossiping about Danielle and her hopeless marriage to Michael. They both laughed, it was easy. Easy to lie.

It was easy to get on the plane, to prattle to her seat mates about how she was a nervous flier. That was why she needed to take the Xanax, not because she was nervous about something else entirely. No, not nervous. Splintered. She shuddered into herself, and waited for the drug to kick in.

* * *

The sun was bright in Istanbul. Too bright. For a moment she stood and just looked. She could feel the crowd pulse around her, knew she was standing out, but she was stuck. She shouldn't be here, she should never have been here. She could see a pair of dark eyes asking her a question in a train station in Amsterdam. Reassuring her to the sound of trains in Russia. Surprising her in Paris.

She pressed her hand to her chest, felt the bit of paper trapped there crinkle against the scars over her heart, and then lifted her hand to hail a car.

The driver was uninterested as she fumbled with the language and her money, laughing about forgetting to change the pounds into lira and asking him to stop by a bank. He waited, eager to fleece her, and she let him.

The hotel room was like all the others she had waited in, and she bustled about plugging in Auggie's toys. She had stashed them at the safe house so she wouldn't have to use them, use them and be reminded of how everything had soured between them, but she found now she didn't mind. If they hadn't ended so disastrously he would have asked for them back, and she needed them to do what she needed to do.

She laid out her clothes, hiking boots, cargo pants. She needed a head scarf. A gun would be nice too, but it might not be necessary. It would be risky to obtain a weapon here. A British woman asking for a gun would stick out, and her only chance was to not stick out.

Being a single woman working her way deep into Turkey was risky enough. She would just have to be careful.

She pulled out her first burner phone and connected it to the lap top before pulling out the second and pairing them. Then she booted up Auggie's proprietary software. While she waited she called Ryan, playing audio of Danielle and a spa technician in the background to allay suspicion.

Once the program was ready she said goodbye and turned her attention to the burner phone. She dialed Jamison's number and waited for it to connect. She just needed him to answer, Auggie's program could track just based on that, and she held her breath as the phone rang.

"Yes?" A male voice grunted.

"Checking on your prisoner." She asked, might as well fish for information as well.

"He's resistant." Jamison ground out, "I've got a team working on him."

Her stomach flipped in her throat, "good. We're getting anxious." She said, gravelling her own voice.

"You can tell Miles we'll know what he has. We just need a few more days. This won't get back to him."

"Good." She said, hanging up the phone with trembling fingers as she stared at the blinking icon. Auggie's program could track him now, as long as he held on to the phone.

* * *

"You sure this is where you want to be miss?" The man asked, hesitant to drop his pretty hitch hiker off in a small town without a youth hostel.

She nodded, and pulled out a notebook filled with notes, "I'm writing a piece for my blog, it's my cachet."

He politely avoided rolling his eyes at her naïve eagerness and drove away without glancing back at her. A few people in the village glanced at her, but she put her head down and pretended to take notes as she walked out of town.

Once she was a ways down the road she turned off it and headed up into the hills, checking her bearings every few kilometers. After three hours her phone rang, and she stopped to chat with Ryan, explaining her heavy breathing as a jog. He suggested other ways to make her heart race, and she joined in, listening to his breathing as she faked excitement of her own as she watched the minutes tick by. It had been 52 hours by now. When he finished she returned his I love you and then set back up the hill at a faster pace.

She set the tent in a copse of trees, and climbed up to the tallest hill in the area, inching forward on her stomach and then peering through her binoculars. There was a deceptively small building set into a hill a few kilometers away, and she set to watching.

Sips of water, glances at her watch, the day slid by into evening. She munched on a protein bar and waited. She had counted four men so far, and only one vehicle. No one had brought food in. As darkness fell three of them left.

She rolled onto her back and stared at the stars, tamping down the adrenaline. He wouldn't be in good shape. She needed an egress as well as an ingress.

She hiked down during the night and poked around the village, there were no vehicles that wouldn't be missed. Every one was in a different place than the morning. So stealing one was out. She hiked back up and slept for a few hours, before perching on the hill and watching again.

Three men came back, and she wished her binoculars were better. She couldn't be sure they were the same three men, nor could she positively identify Jamison. The laptop assured her he was there, but he could have passed the phone to someone else…no…stop being paranoid. They had no reason to practice counter-espionage. They were in a friendly country. They had permission. They were on a black op. They weren't expecting someone to be watching them.

There was no guard rotation. All four men went inside. She closed her eyes instead of looking at her watch. The fact that they were all inside meant Eyal was still alive, but it also meant he was being worked over. She had to keep her head.

She pulled out the scrawled birthday note. She had kept it after all this time, kept it in her safe in her safe house. They were the only two that knew of it. She knew what date his birthday was too. She should have written him a birthday card. Should have given him one.

She should have done a lot of things.

Three men left again that night, and she flew down the hill to the outskirts of the village. If they had left a man, that meant they had someone to guard, but how long could he hold out? She rustled through the barn of one of the farms until she found what she was looking for, the right kind of fertilizer. The diesel was easier to grab, and she loaded both into a wheelbarrow. Her trick from Paris wouldn't work here, she was going to need a get away vehicle, they'd had him for too long. Braced above the barn door was a shotgun, and a pack of shells. She grabbed them too.

Her arms burned, and she stopped for a break, calling Ryan and telling him all about Danielle's plans for their wedding. They skirted the edge of an argument, though he sounded pleased she was actually starting to make plans for the thing. The wheelbarrow pushed the wedding visions from her mind.

She slept for a few hours, before waking with a start. She rummaged through her supplies. What if he were badly hurt? She had only rudimentary first aid, as purchasing anything more would be suspicious. Well, it wouldn't matter if she could take them all out. Then they would have plenty of time.

* * *

The explosion ripped through the air. She crouched next to the door and waited, two men came running out and she blasted both in the back with the shotgun before tossing it aside and grabbing a discarded rifle. Both of them lay writing on the ground, and she finished them with shots from the rifle. A radio lay discarded, and she heard it crackle, Jamison's voice rasping over it asking for an update as she retreated behind a bush.

After a while it went silent, and she waited. Her eyes were adjusted to the bright sun, whoever came out next would be momentarily dazzled, all she had to do was wait. She crouched, rifle ready, her finger on the trigger. What if he went around back? What if he figured out it was a rescue op and used Eyal as a hostage? What if he killed him?

She shoved the thoughts back, and finally heard the hinges squeak on the door. Jamison and the fourth man stepped through. They had rifles ready, but she was behind a bush, and their eyes were dazzled, and it wasn't that hard to shoot them down. She approached, watching the bodies, and even though they weren't moving fired another burst, just in case. Jamison lay on his back, his eyes unseeing, and she moved past, not wanting to see death on his face, but there was something familiar about his uniform… she leaned closer, it was a J&J patch, but there was also McQuaids.

She shivered before gulping down a deep breath and setting the rifle firmly in her shoulder.

There could be more inside. She walked carefully. They had left the lights on, and there was the hum of electricity to accompany her foot steps, but no other sounds. It was sparse, a Turkish kitchen and three more empty rooms, but there, in the floor was a trap door. She beat the lock off it with the butt of the rifle, opened it and glanced down.

It was inky dark. Once she went down she would be blind. Why hadn't she thought to bring a flashlight too? She jumped down, and waited for her eyes to adjust. Her ears caught the sound of chains, and she moved in that direction.

"Eyal?" she asked the darkness, and heard the chains move again. She walked closer to the noise, the rifle slung on its strap on her back, feeling with her hands.

She felt a moist wall, and pushed off it.

"Eyal?" She asked again, her heart pounding in her ears. The rustle of chains again, and this time as she reached with her hands she felt a body. It was still warm, and she ran her hands against it in relief. He moaned, and the chains clinked again.

"I should have brought a flashlight." She huffed in frustration as she felt the suspension in his chest. They had rigged him up in a 'stress position', and she needed to get him down, but she couldn't see the stupid chains.

She moved away from him again, hoping to find a lamp of some kind, surely they hadn't been down here in the dark? They had just left him in it. They would need it to see by. She stumbled against a lamp, and felt her way down it until she found the switch.

The light blinded her for a moment, but she heard a soft groan and she turned around. Eyal's eyes were open and he was looking at her, but she avoided them, looking at the chains around his wrists, holding him above the ground, making it hard for him to breathe and impossible to rest.

She traced their connection with her eyes until she found what she was looking for. She moved to the wall, and slowly released the chain, hoping to give him a chance to find his footing. He did, but collapsed anyway with a scream of pain.

She rushed over, intent on freeing him from the chains but he shied away from her.

"Eyal, it's me." She said, wishing she had his gift for lightening the atmosphere, so she could pretend the moment wasn't going to haunt her.

He pulled away, muttering in Hebrew. She reached for the chains, and he let her, watching her with a look of confusion.

"Did you think I wouldn't return the favor?" she asked, feeling hurt by his clear disbelief. But then why should he think she would come? After everything? They hadn't seen each other in months, and…

"You can't be real." He said, setting his jaw and stiffening his arms, making it harder for her to remove the chains.

"I'm here." She said, reaching for him. He pulled back from her, and tried to sit up before collapsing in a groan. He glanced at her in terror as she moved closer, and she stopped.

"What did you give me?" He asked, searching his arm.

What was he looking for? Why wasn't he taking off the chains?

"Who are you really?" he asked, his voice gravelled and weak as his eyes blazed on defiance.

It clicked. He thought she was a hallucination, a trick of his captors brought on by some sort of medication.

There was only way to convince him. She reached into her blouse and fished out the birthday note, extending it to him. He glanced at it, but didn't move to take it, so she unfolded it and brought it closer so he could see it.

He shook his head, stubborn, refusing to give in to what he thought was a trick.

"It's the birthday note you wrote me in Paris." She said, "I never told anyone about it."

He blinked his eyes rapidly as he twisted his wrists.

"I kept it all this time, in my safe." She said, waving it in front of him. He turned his head away from her, his jaw ticking.

She glanced at him. His body was covered with bruises, scrapes, cuts, burns. His left shin was broken, and his right ankle was as well. She had to get him out of here, she had to help him.

"I…" she gulped, "I was wrong. In Amsterdam. At the train station. I said I wanted to put down roots, but really I was just scared. You scared me, what you were offering anyway. I knew what it was, but I, I pretended I didn't, because I'm a coward. I've been chasing danger all my life to pretend I'm not, but really I am."

"I'm not here because I owe you, because you rescued me all those times I didn't deserve, I'm here because…" She gulped again, wanting to not say it, wanting to avoid his eyes, but he was looking at her and she couldn't look away, "because I don't want to marry Ryan. I never did. I never wanted to marry anyone. All I really want to do is watch the sun set on a beach with you."

"No. You're not real." He said, his voice a whisper as he held her eyes.

"I am." She said, moving closer, and cupping his cheek with her hand, "I'm here." She said, kissing his brow, "I'm here."

He tilted his head up, and she leaned down and kissed him, with no agenda, no FSB chasing them, just the two of them here.

She pulled back, searching his face.

"What took you so long neshema?" he said his eyes meeting hers with a sparkle that lifted her heart.

"Let's get you out of here." She said, and helped him unwind the chains around his wrists, doing her best to avoid aggravating his bruises. He winced, and drew sharp breaths as she did.

"You didn't happen to bring me shoes this time?" He asked once he was free, his tone light. She glanced at him and he grinned at her, but couldn't quite hide the pain he was feeling. She turned to her pack and pulled out a pair of hiking boot. He barked a laugh, which changed into a wracking cough that left him doubled over and panting.

"Here." She said, pulling out the meager first aid supplies she'd brought, "let's get you something for the pain."

He shook his head, levering himself up to sitting again and motioned for the boots.

"Eyal…" She started to admonish him, but he ignored her, jamming his left foot into the boot with a gasp of pain, and the right with a groan he tried to suppress.

She extended the morphine syringe to him, but he waved her off.

"We need to splint that." She said, "let me give you something."

"It'll just fuzz my reflexes." He said, protesting.

"It will also make it easier and faster." She said, "what if they called in back up?"

"They didn't." He said, before pausing, "you got all four right?"

"Of course I did." She replied with a huff that won her another smile, "but you need a doctor, and the sooner the better. Some of those bruises look bad Eyal." She said, pointing to his torso, "you could have internal bleeding."

He shook his head, and she set the syringe aside before pulling out splinting materials. Turning back to him she hesitated, and riffled in the pack again until she found a water bottle.

He drank from it greedily until it was empty.

"Let's do this." He said, gesturing to the splint.

"I've never actually done it before." She said, crouching in front of him.

"It's a simple break. Just line the bone fragments up." He said.

"Good." He grunted as she maneuvered his leg and secured the splint, his face now ashenly pale.

She waited for him to get some color back before hefting her pack and rifle up, "I'll just go secure our escape vehicle and then come back and help you up."

He tried to conceal a flash of panic at the idea of her leaving him before nodding. She leaned in and kissed him again, "I'll be right back."

It was bright outside, getting toward noon, and when she opened the door outside several birds fluttered away from the bodies cluttering the ground. She walked around them and tried the truck. It was unlocked, and on top of the driver's sun visor were the keys. She turned the ignition, and it started right away, with plenty of fuel.

Grinning like an idiot at her good luck she shut it off and, leaving her pack and rifle in the back seat, hurried back down to Eyal.

He had dragged himself right to the trap door, but was whiter than before from the effort.

"Let me give you some morphine." She said, and he shook his head. She sighed as she climbed down. He was so stubborn.

When she reached the bottom he gave her a tight smile before examining the ladder. There was no way she could either lift him up or pull him up.

"If you try and climb that without morphine-"

"It'll hurt." He said, "just steady me, if I can get my arms up, then I should be able to lift most my weight off my legs."

She nodded, and tried not to hear his shout of pain as he used his broken left leg to push himself up. He leaned on her for a moment, and then he must have gotten a grip with his arms because it his weight eased off. She looked up, to see him panting.

He gave her a reassuring smile and pulled himself up, she helped lift his legs the last bit and then followed him up. He was lying on his side gasping.

"Please, take the damn morphine. You proved your tough, okay?"

"It's not that."

"You don't need to be alert, I've got this Eyal." She said.

"I know."

"Then just take the stupid morphine." She said.

"I…" he trailed off not meeting her eyes, "you hear that?" he asked

She glanced around, dreading helicopter blades, a truck pulling up, men, but all she heard was his heavy breathing.

"My breathing, it's…not great." He said, "morphine depresses respiration…"

"Did they break your ribs?" she asked, looking him over for injuries again.

"I sort of lost track after the first few hours…" he said closing his eyes. He looked tired. She resisted the impulse to shake him, and instead pulled his arm over her shoulders.

He clenched his jaw as she dragged him to the truck, and again, put weight on his splinted leg to help get into the truck, lowering the seat back immediately, his face white. She let him rest, pulling the truck onto the rough dirt road, and ignoring the way it made him wince as it rolled and bounced.

When they pulled onto a paved highway she could hear his labored breathing, and glanced at him.

"So you love me." He said after a few minutes, sounding all too smug.

She laughed, all the worry and adrenaline peaking into absurd relief that he was here with her joking about how she poured her heart out to him. He reached for her hand and kissed it, murmuring " _ani ohev otach_ ".

She turned to him, his eyes serious on hers, like he was about to ask her an important question a second time when her phone rang. Ryan. She shot him an apologetic glance and picked it up.

"Annie! Where the hell are you? I've been trying to reach you for hours, Danielle called. She said you never even spoke to her." He paused, waiting for her to say something, but she was trapped by Eyal's gaze.

"I know you were nervous about getting married, but fuck! You can't just fabricate a lie like that!" he shouted. Eyal's eyebrow rose, but other than that his face stayed blank, waiting for her to explain.

"You're right." She said to Ryan.

"I'm right?! Of course I'm right! I know it's hard, but-"

"Ryan. We can't get married." She said, glancing at Eyal, who was still studying her.

"So talk to me about it! Don't just take off! Where are you baby? I'll come wherever you are, and we can talk about this, we can work this out."

"I don't think…" she said.

"Whatever it is, I'm sure it's not that bad." He said, pleading with her. She could still feel Eyal's eyes on her, and for a moment she was terrified, but then he reached over and laid his battered hand on her leg, grounding her.

"I'm in Turkey." She said.

"You're where?" Ryan asked, incredulous, "don't mess with me Annie, I swear –"

"I'm not messing with you. You know I'm not, because if I know you, you already tracked my phone." She said.

Ryan didn't respond.

"You're not going to ask me why I'm in Turkey?" she asked.

"You're skirting awfully close to treason." He said.

"Did you know?" She asked.

"That the operative Jamison picked up was Eyal Lavin? Not until this morning." Ryan said, "but then I never thought you would have done this."

Annie glanced around wildly, he couldn't be here could he?

"Be careful Annie." Ryan sighed into the phone before the connection went dead.

"Did you know?" She asked, turning to Eyal.

"Not until they brought me here." He said.

She blinked back tears, "so going dark, going after Henry Wilcox was just a waste."

"Don't do that to yourself."

"We should have been on the Flying Lavin instead of faking my death." She said, "I should have come with you."

"And I should have told you I loved you. Should have made you unafraid. Should have known after Simon you wouldn't want to run off with a rogue operative. We both made mistakes."

"Mine were worse." She said.

"Maybe." He said, and she turned to him, feeling affronted when she caught the smirk on his face.

"We need to call Rivka." She said, "Ryan knows, it's only a matter of time."

"It's Moshe actually." Eyal said, "and it's probably better you call it in."

"Talk to King Saul?" she asked, "are you crazy? What will I say? Hey you know Eyal Lavin, the guy that dropped off the map like four days ago, I found him?"

"No. You need to call Langley." He said.

"Wait. You're not just encouraging me to call in, you actually want me to call in that I found a Mossad officer who happened to have been working in Washington?"

"If you don't, they'll burn you." He said.

"I don't care. They already did, and this time I'm not alone."

"Are you sure? Once you make that call there's no going back."

"I don't think there ever was." She said, "I think I fought the current, but it was always going to bring me here, with you."

"Annie, you can't, what you're giving up, there's no way back, it's not like before."

"I'm not. I'm not giving anything up, well not much anyway. I was splintered, a thousand different pieces, I was beating myself against an unstoppable force, and for what? For clandestine medals and capture bonuses?" She said, then suddenly felt nervous. Why was he encouraging her to go? Was he, was he in worse shape than he let on? Was he going to die?

"Hey, whatever you're thinking stop. You can trust me." He interrupted her thoughts, gripping her hand, "I love you."

She nodded, feeling small and shy for a moment, until he squeezed her hand again. She handed him the phone and he dialed a memorized number, setting it to speaker phone mode.

An operator answered, but once Eyal identified himself he was transferred to Moshe who picked up immediately.

"Eyal!" he said, sounding relieved.

"We need immediate extraction." He glanced at her, "where are we?"

"We?" Moshe asked. Eyal nodded at her, and she gave their location.

"Turkey? That's…difficult."

"It's worth it." She said, "in addition to whatever Eyal found out, I can offer you a whole lot more."

"Annie…" Eyal said.

"I'm tired of being manipulated, and lied to, and used up. Besides, I'm dead anyway."

"No you're not." He said fiercely, and for a moment all the pallor and pain faded from his face.

"Eyal-" Moshe said, "who- is that Annie Walker with you?"

She nodded at Eyal and he confirmed it, "so what's the extraction plan?"

"He's in rough shape too, by the way." She said. Eyal glared at her.

"How rough?" Moshe asked, and Eyal reluctantly relayed his status, which included the internal bleeding she had worried about.

"Can you make it to the coast?" Moshe asked.

"Yes." Annie replied.

"Eyal knows the protocols." Moshe said, and the line went dead.

"That it?" She said, "you guys are awfully personal."

Eyal laughed, and then started to cough, "stop making me laugh. It hurts."

* * *

"So he's going to be fine?" She asked. The surgeon looked tired, but was unfazed by her three armed escorts.

"Yes. He may not regain full use of his right ankle though, we'll have to see how he does with the physiotherapy." He said, still unfazed when she threw her arms around him and hugged. The staff had been grim when they'd finally landed in Tel Aviv, Eyal's breathing and internal bleeding having steadily worsened in the hours it took, and he had been in surgery for more than eight hours.

Her escorts stood to the side, one of them smiling while the others didn't even pretend to be politely uninterested.

"Can I see him?" She asked.

"We'll come and get you when he wakes up, but I have to warn you, being in the critical care unit is an overwhelming experience, you should prepare yourself."

Annie nodded, hugging her arms around herself as she paced. Her escorts watched her, but were relaxed. They weren't worried about her running. The paranoid spy in her wanted to be concerned about that, that she and Eyal had both made their feeling for each other so obvious, and the vulnerable girl in her wanted to run, but mostly she just wanted to see him. To make sure it was real, that he really had said it, that he loved her in spite of all her fighting and flailing and mistakes.

Of course they were also there because she was supposed to meet with Moshe, or someone at King Saul and discuss things…Which was okay. It wasn't really treason if the people she was informing on were already traitors themselves. And really, wasn't it better to let Mossad deal with it than try to do it on her own? They probably wouldn't even do much with it, just use it as collateral in the endless negotiations between the two countries.

She should care. She should. She had spent five years with the agency, had dedicated her life to the cause, but all she had room for was Eyal. Eyal and his promise of a sunset they had waited too damn long to enjoy.

* * *

Her ears were filled the creak of wood and the slap of waves. Her skin warmed by the sun, and cooled by the fresh sea breeze. She heard a cork pop, and glasses fill, but she didn't hear his footsteps approach. He handed her a glass and settled next to her, pulling her to nestle against his chest. They clinked glasses, and then turned their eyes toward the sun setting over the Mediterranean.

He pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder, "beautiful."

She turned and pressed her hand against the long scar running down his chest, her eyes darting to the one from the bullet in Washington on his shoulder, and three others on his abdomen from various adventures.

He dipped his head lower and kissed the scars over her heart, and she leaned into the current which cradled all her splintered pieces.

"We're missing it." She complained, pointing to the sunset, and he chuckled.

"This is exactly how I imagined it neshema." He said, an arrogant smirk on his face. She laughed, and setting her wine glass aside, pulled him into her until long after the sun had set.


End file.
